


Killswitch

by Polyhexian



Series: Humanformers: The Music AU [4]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: AU, F/F, Humanformers, Medical stuff, POV Third Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:21:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26766445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Polyhexian/pseuds/Polyhexian
Summary: Cyclonus and Tailgate go to a show.
Relationships: Cyclonus/Tailgate (Transformers)
Series: Humanformers: The Music AU [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1859230
Comments: 7
Kudos: 34





	Killswitch

Cyclonus awoke as she always did, early.

Her day began with a workout routine, from high knees to squat punches, and then moved into breakfast, brewing black coffee and bringing water to a boil on the stove for oatmeal. Her apartment was small, extremely functional and somewhat barren, practical but not especially beautiful. She had promised herself she would stop denying herself beauty when she moved out on her own, but beautiful things were expensive. 

As she ate breakfast, she regarded the bracelet she had been given. Gaudy thing that it was, it was endearing. She turned it over in her hand, running her fingers over the beads. It was not an elegant piece, hardly a work of art, but still. It was a gift. A very thoughtful gift. 

Cyclonus did not have many friends. Scourge was a friend and a business partner, but emotions were not something they shared. She spoke infrequently to Rewind after the initial kerfuffle of the interview, but she didn't know him especially well either. Tailgate was different. Tailgate was desperate to befriend her, intrigued and bubbly and bright. 

Tailgate was dangerous. She was easy to talk to, easy to trust and that was _dangerous._ Cyclonus had been burned before and had no interest in having it happen again. She had worked hard for her life and would not watch it ruined because she was foolish enough to trust someone just because they put butterflies in her stomach.

She put her bowl in the sink, popped an Estradiol under her tongue and walked back to her bed, setting the bracelet on the nightstand. Cyclonus was a lesbian. Tailgate was a lesbian. Tailgate had not batted an eye when she mentioned she was transgender, but Cyclonus was not so enamored as to think that was enough, and she had no desire to be let down gently with another 'sorry, but I'm only interested in _real_ women' sob story. She knew better. She could be friends with Tailgate, but she would not let her in any closer than that.

She took a shower, blow dried her hair, got dressed and then made her way to school for the day. She was getting close to completing most of her basic level courses and was more than ready to move onto the more interesting material next semester. 

Not for the first time, she waved at Tailgate in the back before she took her seat toward the front and wondered if she was still coming to this class even though it _clearly_ was not jogging her memory just to see her. Probably not. That would be ridiculous. And yet…

"You look wonderful today," Tailgate said when she met her by the door, "The way your sleeves are torn is so cool, like, it looks so natural but at the same time I don't think anything would tear like that naturally."

"Thank you," Cyclonus said, internally warm, "It's a very difficult effect to achieve. It takes a lot of practice to get just right." 

"Maybe you could teach me sometime," Tailgate said shyly, looking up at her with her warm brown eyes, her full lips pulled into what felt like an ever present smile. Cyclonus swallowed.

"Perhaps," she said, vaguely, and then shifted her posture, preparing herself. "I was going to attend a show tomorrow evening, a band is playing at a bar near here that I like, and I thought that they might have a sound you enjoyed. I wanted to ask… if you might want to come with me." 

Tailgate blinked up at her, once, twice, and then her eyes widened like glimmering saucers. "Really?! Oh, Cyclonus, I would love to, I haven't _been_ to anything like that other than at Swerve's, and I would _love_ someone to go with, and-" she hesitated suddenly. "Tomorrow?"

Cyclonus stiffened, immediately feeling what she refused to acknowledge as anxiety. "Yes? Is that not… convenient?" 

"Oh, no, um-" Tailgate looked away, chewing her lip, "There's… no other night we could go?"

"If you don't want to, you certainly don't-"

"No, no!" Tailgate said quickly, "It's fine! Tomorrow is fine. Yes, I'd love to."

"I can pick you up, if you'd like," Cyclonus offered, "I know you take the train here."

Tailgate blushed. "Oh, yes. Yes, that would be wonderful, thank you."

"Here, I'll give you my phone number and you can text me your address," said Cyclonus, pulling her phone from her purse. Tailgate lit up and pulled her own out, trading cell numbers. Cyclonus caught a brief glance at her contact list and was surprised to see how small it was. They finished the walk to her car and Tailgate smiled and waved and left her to drive home, lost in thought.

* * *

"It's so good to see you!" Tailgate chirped as she slid into Cyclonus's passenger seat, fully decked out in rainbows, cat ears, fluffy boots, the whole nine yards. Cyclonus couldn't help but twitch her lips toward a smile at the outfit- certainly not her style, nor one she even personally understood, but seeing how confident Tailgate was wearing it and how happy it clearly made her was infectious. 

"You look cute," she said, without thinking, and then immediately regretted it. Too many connotations with such a word, but it was too late to take back.

"Oh," said Tailgate, as Cyclonus pulled away from the curb and into evening traffic, "Thank you."

"...The band playing tonight is called Killswitch," she said, changing the subject, "At a bar called Luna 1. It's a bit of a dive, but it's not terrible."

"That's okay!" Tailgate beamed, "Honestly, I have to tell you, I don't really like drinking. I think maybe I used to, but I might have lost the taste for it."

Cyclonus chuffed laughter. "You spend a lot of time at a bar for someone who doesn't like drinking."

"Yeah, well, Swerve won't kick me out," she smiled deviously, "And he makes me pizza whenever I want."

"Quite a good deal, I think," Cyclonus commented, amused, "I'll have to ask you to get me special favours next time."

"Oh, I'd _love_ to," Tailgate purred, "Legally I'm allowed to drink. Which feels wild! Every time I hand someone my ID I feel like I'm getting away with something!" 

Cyclonus chuckled. "I can only imagine." 

"You have a nice laugh," said Tailgate, and Cyclonus flushed.

"Thank you," she said, uncertain what else to say. 

The bar was just as ratty as she remembered, but the crowd more behaved than she expected. Perhaps the niche performers had drawn in a different audience than usual. She sat across from Tailgate at a little table by the wall and ordered a gin and tonic with a fake ID.

It was clear from Tailgate's expression (and excited whooping and whistling) that she was enjoying herself. Cyclonus was relieved, she'd been worried about how badly the evening might go if she didn't like the band, how awkward it would be… but in the end, it was fine. Fun. 

By the night's conclusion Tailgate seemed to have exhausted herself with her ferverous display and now seemed entirely tuckered out. She allowed Cyclonus to lead her by the arm as they left and she tried not to dwell on the warm feeling of their skin touching, or how much she wanted to hold her hand. 

"Thank you for the invite," Tailgate yawned, as they were walking to Cyclonus's car, "It was _so_ much fun. This is exactly the kind of thing I really wanted to start doing."

"I'm in a few Facebook groups that let me find out when shows like this happen," Cyclonus said, "They're private, but I could give you an invite if you want."

"Really?" Tailgate beamed, "Yes! That would be amazing." 

"Maybe we could go to another show together. It's much safer to go in the buddy system, I'm told," Cyclonus suggested, and Tailgate's expression softened.

"I would like that."

Cyclonus felt warm the entire drive to Tailgate's apartment to drop her off and the entire drive home afterward.

* * *

On Tuesday, Cyclonus was surprised when she walked into her History class and did not see Tailgate's bright expression sitting in the back. She always arrived before Cyclonus, but not today.

She didn't arrive at all that day, and Cyclonus was left lingering by the door before the walk to her car, strangely anxious. She leaned against the door in the parking lot, before she opened her phone and called Tailgate. 

It rang four times before she answered. "Hull… Hello?" Tailgate mumbled, her voice sounding thick and confused, like she'd just awoken.

Cyclonus frowned. "Tailgate, this is Cyclonus. You weren't in class today. Are you alright?" 

"I'm… it's fine, you know, you don't… yeah, I'm good," Tailgate murmured, sounding somewhat delirious. The hairs on the back of Cyclonus's neck began to rise, suspicious and concerned.

"You don't sound fine," she observed, "Are you ill?"

"Prob'ly," Tailgate answered, "It's… I mean, could be, you know."

"Is someone with you?" Cyclonus fretted.

"I live alone," Tailgate slurred, "I'm just… I'm just tired."

"Tailgate," said Cyclonus, "Do you need help?"

There was a long beat of silence before Tailgate answered.

"Yes," she said at a whisper, her voice cracking. 

Cyclonus was at her apartment quicker than her gps estimated but still not as quickly as she would have liked, and her steadily mounting panic was not helped when she found her apartment door unlocked. 

"Tailgate?!" Cyclonus cried, shoving the door open and walking into the apartment of a woman she had to remember she barely knew, had only known a couple of months and seen infrequently therein, but-

"Yeah, yeah, I'm…" Cyclonus oriented toward the voice, walking briskly down the short hall before she found Tailgate in her bed, wrapped in blankets.

"Tailgate, what's wrong?" she asked, unable to keep the concern from her voice, and when she was closer she could see with alarm that something was wrong. The smaller woman was bloated, sweating, and the room reeked of vomit. 

"I just to… I'll be fine on Monday, I just…" Tailgate struggled to sit up, clearly disoriented and Cyclonus put a nervous hand on her shoulder.

"Tailgate," she said, "It's Tuesday."

"Oh," said Tailgate, "I should probably go to the hospital, then."

Cyclonus did not wait any longer and simply picked the sick woman up like a toddler. She seemed surprised, but it wasn't like Cyclonus wasn't clearly very strong. 

"Do you need anything from here?" she asked. Tailgate shook her head weakly and Cyclonus left quickly, kicking the door shut on her way out and laid Tailgate down in the back seat. The entire drive to the hospital she was panicked, muscles tense, terrified she wouldn't be fast enough, of what might be happening. 

She picked her up again from the backseat as she parked in front of the ER front entrance and ran inside, clutching Tailgate against her chest while she clung to her neck. 

"My friend is sick!" Cyclonus cried as she entered the waiting room, "I need help immediately!"

Everything after that was a rush. Someone dragged out a stretcher. Someone else took Tailgate from her. She was pulled along into a cell in the ER, curtain torn out of the way as nurses rushed to connect her friend to machines and tubes and wires, and Cyclonus stepped back and out of the way, until a woman behind the nurse's station offered her a chair to sit in.

Cyclonus did not quite know what to do. She didn't know what was happening or why. She knew Swerve was Tailgate's cousin but didn't know his number, didn't know any of her other friends. She had no idea who to call. She waited for an hour, scratching anxiously at the inside of her arm until it was red. 

"Excuse me," said a voice behind her, and Cyclonus looked up, startled, at the nurse behind the desk, "Your friend is lucid if you want to see her."

"Ah- thank you!" Cyclonus said, standing up so quickly that she knocked the chair back and ran to the room she had left Tailgate in.

"Cyclonus," said Tailgate, looking up. Her voice was not the usual chipper, happy tone Cyclonus was used to, but tired, irritated almost. "You're still here." 

Cyclonus followed a thick tube full of blood from where it disappeared through the collar of her hospital gown and then to a machine by her bedside. "Tailgate… are you feeling better?"

"Fine," said Tailgate, wearily. "You can go home if you want."

Cyclonus blinked, then furrowed her brow unhappily. "Do you want me to leave?" 

Tailgate looked away, down at her lap, guiltily. "No."

Cyclonus hesitated a moment and then pulled a chair from the wall beside Tailgate's bed. "I'll stay, then."

Tailgate grimaced, lips twitching. "Thank you."

"Are you… alright?" Cyclonus asked. Tailgate glanced up at her, and then back at her lap.

"I'm fine," she said quietly, "I was just late on dialysis."

"Dialysis?" 

"I've got type one diabetes," Tailgate explained, "When I fell, when I went into that coma- I guess it was the time I was out combined with the head trauma, but, I went into diabetic ketoacidosis. You know. A diabetic coma. I was out for all of it, honestly, so it wasn't too bad, when I woke up it was mostly already done."

"What was already done?" Cyclonus asked, her heart sinking.

"Kidneys broke down," she shrugged, "Stage five renal failure. Three times a week, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, I go to the dialysis clinic in the evening for four hours. They basically take all my blood out, clean it, and put it back in, since my kidneys can't do it anymore on their own."

"Friday," Cyclonus murmured, her voice quiet.

Tailgate shrugged, looking away. "I didn't think it would be a big deal to skip just one."

"Why didn't you just tell me?" Cyclonus implored, clenching her hands together.

"Because I didn't want to," Tailgate snapped, as if it were obvious, "I didn't want _anyone_ to know. I didn't even tell Swerve!"

"Why not?" Cyclonus couldn't understand the logic. "Why would you keep that secret? I've seen you eat so much sugar, and-"

"Type _one_ ," Tailgate groaned, sounding annoyed, "I can have _sugar_ as long as I keep my blood sugar in mind. The real problem is phosphorous, carbs, trans fats. Stuff like that."

"You eat those, too," Cyclonus argued.

Tailgate smiled grimly. "Yeah."

"Why?"

"Because it doesn't _matter,_ " Tailgate sighed, "I'm already _dying._ Yeah, yeah, sure, people live decades on dialysis. Whatever. It's gonna get me eventually. Or maybe I fall down another manhole and that's it. Lights out. Everybody dies. I'm here for a good time, not a long time."

"That's crazy!" Cyclonus cried, angry, "You're just not going to take care of yourself because you don't care if you die?" 

" _I_ care if I die," Tailgate snapped, "But no one _else_ does."

Cyclonus sat back, quiet. "Why do you think that?"

Tailgate rolled her eyes. "Come on. Surely you've noticed by now that I don't know anyone. My parents died at some point in the last six years, and I don't even _remember_ it. I don't have any siblings. I see _you_ twice a week for five minutes and you're the closest thing I have to a friend." 

On the outside, Cyclonus was still, calm. On the inside her organs were roiling, heart ice cold, stomach burning. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine," Tailgate said, but Cyclonus could see her eyes shimmering, fighting back tears, "It is what it is."

Cyclonus swallowed, and wished she knew what to say. She wished she was better with people. She wished she'd had a better childhood, one with more friends, with more trust, one that might have prepared her for a moment like this. "I care if you die," she said, and hoped that somehow, it would convey what she meant when she didn't know how to say it.

Tailgate sniffled and looked at her. "Did we go on a date?" she asked.

"What?"

"Luna 1. Killswitch. Did we go on a date, or were you just being friendly?" Tailgate repeated, "I can't tell." 

"Did you want it to be a date?" Cyclonus asked, one hand sneaking toward her forearm, itching.

"I _really_ wanted it to be a date," Tailgate whispered, "I can't tell how you feel about me. You're… a little closed off, and I _think_ you like me, but- but I can't tell how much."

Cyclonus's stomach flipped. "You don't know I like you?" Tailgate shook her head. "I… like you very much." 

"I like you very much, too," said Tailgate softly.

"...It was not a date," Cyclonus said hesitantly, "But I would… like to take you on a date, if you would like to go on one."

Tailgate immediately brightened, wiping her nose on the sheet. "You would?!" 

"If you want to," Cyclonus repeated, "I'm not… good with feelings. I'm not good with people. And- and I already told you I was trans, but there's things yet I've not had done, and-"

"I don't care about _that!_ " Tailgate gasped, "you thought I cared about _that?_ You don't even have to _tell_ me that, Cyclonus!" She grabbed Cyclonus's hands, yanking her fingernails away from her forearm where she had been scratching, "I think you are… very brave, and very nice, when you want to be. I like you." 

Cyclonus hesitated a moment before she folded her hands around Tailgate's, and then smiled nervously. "Alright. It's a date, then." 


End file.
